“You’re always busy,” my high school friends used to tell me, a hint of awe in their voice, a tremor of respect. “I don’t know how you do it.”
I lived for this sort of praise. I lived for the feeling of constant productivity, of feeling like my life was moving in some direction. Life feels different when you’re constantly moving, when you never take a moment to breathe. You feel as if every moment is tied to a thin string, hanging precariously. It’s an adrenaline rush. Not even that — it feels like what you think being alive and working and productive feels like.
I never stopped. Classes. Theater. Studying. Meetings. Classes. Theatre. Studying. Rinse. Repeat.
This lifestyle continued into college, except that I was no longer the best at being busy. Everyone was equally good at this sort of busyness, if not better. Everyone else could easily juggle classes and clubs and meetings and partying and somehow come out with a perfect GPA and an internship. I struggled to keep up with my few extracurriculars and classes, opting to not go out on some weekends to make the balance work.
But I still felt breathless, winded by the pressure.
And then I really was breathless. The stress had gotten to me. I felt like I was gasping for air, heaving into a sob. The work and stress was too much. I had personal problems that were interfering with my life and my classwork and schoolwork was too demanding and difficult. I didn’t tell anyone; I locked the feeling away. It seemed like no one else felt like this. I didn’t want to be called dramatic, I didn’t want to trouble my friends for feeling a certain way. Besides, my classes were allegedly not as difficult as my friends’. I shouldn’t be feeling so stressed. I was just weak and silly.
I’m taking a UNIV class this semester. Anyone who knows what UNIV 110 is will probably say one thing: The class is sort of a joke. The work is minimal and the class is largely based around feelings. I didn’t take the class seriously until we got to the subject of stress and time-management.
And then I realized how broken my system was. I was drowning.
That wasn't the life-changing revelation, though. What I truly realized was this: Everyone around me was drowning too. And that was scarier than anything.
We have devolved into a culture of perpetual busyness. We overload ourselves, trying to create the college experience. But there is no perfect college experience. This culture we have created is indeed toxic. We are stressing ourselves out, hurting our bodies and minds in the process.
I'm not sure how to crush this sort of culture. I'm not sure that I even can, or that any of us can, though I know the Rice administration has been taking steps to try and remedy this toxic situation. All I know is that it is not sustainable.
